The Winter Dynasty
by The K1D
Summary: The beginning of the end was at the Tourney of Harrenhal, and the machinations of the gods to prevent it started at that same moment in history. Watch as it unfolds.
1. 1 The Tourney at Harrenhal

**Hello all. The K1D here. I'm giving my two best stories another shot. I hope you'll enjoy it. Expect more to follow soon.**

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**Chapter 1: The Tourney at Harrenhal**

Eddard Stark, a young man of 16 namedays, and his best friend, Robert Baratheon, a man of 17 namedays. The pair was a force to be reckoned with according to even some of the most skilled Vale Knights. That early spring, King Aerys Targaryen had decided to invite all the Seven Kingdoms to a tourney in honor of his second son, Viserys, surviving to his 7th nameday. House Whent would be hosting the tourney on behalf of Royal family. The journey to Harrenhal was something of an adventure for Ned. He had never been quite this far south before. Robert Baratheon was riding at Ned's side, joking and jeering, trying to get Ned to break a smile. It worked, and Ned relaxed and laughed with his friend.

A fortnight after they set out from the Vale, the party of Lord Jon Arryn arrived at Harrenhal. They set up camp just north of the castle's ruined gates. They were among some of the first to arrive. The Riverlords, of course, had arrived earlier than they had, but they were joined by other lords and their parties very quickly over the next few days. The Lannisters arrived 3 days after House Arryn's party. The Targaryen Royal party was the last to arrive, and, of course, a feast was thrown in their honor. King Aerys announced the beginning of the tourney at Harrenhal and that it would be the greatest tourney in history and last for half of the spring. And so, the tourney did begin.

* * *

"What do you think, Ned? Should I enter the joust?" Robert nudged his friend after they got their breakfast the first official day of the tourney.

"It doesn't matter what I think, Robert. If you feel so compelled to, no matter what I tell you, you'll enter anyways." Ned sighed.

"Ha-ha!" Robert guffawed, "Come off it, Ned. Of course, it matters what you think. You're my friend, not a servant"

"My father has never liked tourneys, Robert. If you're going to wield true steel against an opponent, then your end goal should be to kill him. To play with steel is to gamble with death. War is no game. Not for the men fighting it. Lord Arryn would agree, I think." Ned said.

"What hypocrites, I say. Who was that encouraged us to practice with our steel in the first place?" Robert queried seriously.

"That's different, Robert. If you want to enter the joust or the melee, then be my guest. I'm not going to stop you, Robert, but do not expect me to join you." Ned was getting tired of this back and forth.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ned! If you entered, I'd never stand a chance." Robert grinned ear to ear at Ned before he turned away to register.

Ned shook his head and went back to his tent. He laid down on his cot and closed his eyes for a nap.

* * *

Ned was awoken by Ser Yohn Royce, who had served Jon Arryn as a page and squire before being knighted.

"Ser Royce, it is good to see you. I see you caught up with us finally." Ned nodded to the man a few years older than him.

"And you, Eddard. I got word that a young Lady Lyanna Stark is searching for her elder brother. I thought you'd appreciate some notice." Ser Royce nodded back to his lord's charge.

"Thank you, Ser Royce. I will meet her very quickly." Ned straightened himself up a bit and exited his tent.

"Ned!" A voice called from behind him.

Ned turned around soon enough to see a young woman fling herself into his arms. "It's good to see you too, Lyanna." Ned looked at his little sister. She had grown significantly since he last saw her. "I was about to go to find you, but I suppose you beat me to it."

"Brandon's here, too. Father wants him to meet his betrothed, Lord Hoster Tully's oldest daughter." Lyanna said dourly.

"Oh. You sound less than pleased about this." Ned knew his sister was unhappy about something.

Lyanna frowned, "Father wants me to marry as well."

"Who?" Ned asked.

"He hasn't told me for certain yet, but he is leaning towards a betrothal to your friend, Robert." Lyanna's face turned to anger.

"What have you heard, Lyanna?" Ned asked, "Some of it may not be true."

"Don't you dare try to defend him, Ned! Everyone knows he already has a bastard daughter in the Vale." Lyanna was working herself up.

Ned nodded solemnly, "You're right. He has a daughter. It is a stain on his honor, but that does not mean that he has none. He has asked me of my childhood at Winterfell often, and most of the stories he likes to hear are about you." Lyanna stayed silent as Ned continued, "He was most impressed when I told him about the time you broke Brandon's practice sword after sparing to settle the argument over who got which horse."

"So, he wants the she-wolf, then?" Ned nodded, "That's just what he'll get. I will not be wed off to Robert Baratheon, or any other man for that matter."

Lyanna led Ned to the Stark camp, where Brandon was laying in his cot, hungover from drinking too much. Ned felt little sympathy, since he was going to wed Catelyn Tully in Winterfell's godswood. The two would leave the tourney for Winterfell and marry upon their arrival. Brandon had enjoyed being a bachelor too much for too long, in Ned's opinion. He was unattached and available and would remain so. Their father's task for him was to find himself a politically strong woman of the south to marry. Benjen would be married to a northern bride to appease the Stark banner men and vassals. Lyanna was not happy, but she suffered in silence. The Starks would be spread thin once again, it seemed. That could prove dangerous.

* * *

The day of the joust arrived. King Aerys gave some royal announcements, before turning to his Wardens for any possible announcements from them. The crowd was silent. Lord Tywin Lannister looked like he was calculating something, when suddenly...

"Let the tournament begin!" Shouted Aerys, sounding rather crazed.

Several hedge knights dismounted each other before soon enough Robert Baratheon had his turn against the heir of Ravenwood. Robert received a favor from Lyanna as was expected and rode against his opponent. After two passes, the heir of Ravenwood fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. A number of knights from the Westerlands and the Reach came up against each other in the following rounds. Ser Barristan Selmy faced young Ser Gregor Clegane. The young man was dismounted on their first pass. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen faced the youngest member of the kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. It almost seemed like it would be close, but the young lion was knocked flat-out by his crown prince on the first pass. The jousting continued like this for hours before the knights retired so they could rest up for the next day, when the second round of jousts would take place and the melee would begin. That night there was to be a banquet and feast for those in attendance.

"What are you going to wear then, Ned? Will you forgo your black tunic for something more colorful?" Robert loved to tease his friend.

"I will not embarrass myself and dress in colors seen only in stories of giant birds of paradise in the Summer Isles, Robert. You may do as you please yourself, but I will be maintaining my dignity." Ned lifted his head as he fastened his breeches.

"I see. You must be going for the 'my muscles are too large for these clothes' approach." Robert guffawed at his jab.

"As you say, Robert; although, I could never compete with you in that regard." Ned grinned back at his friend.

"True enough, Ned." Robert chuckled, "At least wear something other than black. Honestly I'd settle for gray."

"You don't wish to dance with a man clad in all black?" Ned questioned mockingly.

"I give up, Ned. I'll see you there." Robert turned and exited Ned's tent.

Ned shrugged and put on a tight black undergarment. Ned was about to leave but turned back and put on a dark gray open doublet. He walked out of his tent and made his way to the banquet. Ned arrived at the yard just in time for King Aerys to stand and make some arbitrary announcements. Ned took his seat at Robert's side, his sister sat on Robert's left. Robert grinned, but restrained himself from saying anything, which Ned appreciated. The lord of House Stark, Ned's father Rickard, was seated in between Lord Tully and Lord Arryn. Only Prince Rhaegar and a selection of the small council were seated close to King Aerys at the head of the high table, where the Wardens and great lords in attendance were sat. Lesser lords and landed knights were seated at other smaller tables throughout the room. A light first course went by quickly; unfortunately, it also opened up the floodgates for conversation. Lords and ladies from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms began yammering to no end; fueling their foolishness with wine and other drink.

Ned sighed as he watched his friend down his first cup, "Robert, if you want to impress my sister, please restrain yourself from drinking. She hates drunks." Ned whispered.

"Ha! I hear you, Ned. I shall attempt to resist my cup, although I can never promise I shall stay sober." Robert grinned at Ned.

The king made a beckoning motion, and a small troupe of minstrels entered into the middle of the yard and bowed, "Your highness, do you wish for us to begin the night's festivities with a song of your illustrious house?" The leader of the troupe asked the king.

Aerys smirked, "Naturally."

The men bowed and took their place at the left of high table. They set up quickly and began to play a song in celebration of King Jaehaerys the Wise. It was a jovial tune, a natural song for kicking off the banquet for dancing. Robert laughed good-naturedly and teased Ned some as he drank from a new goblet filled with water, trying to abide by his friend's request. When Robert saw that his friend was eyeing Ashara Dayne, he grinned mischievously to himself. Ned never saw it coming. Without warning, Robert shoved Ned towards Ashara Dayne. He winked at the Dornish beauty who grinned knowingly back at Robert before whisking Ned away into the fray of the dance.

"You seem nervous, Lord Stark." Ashara teased her partner.

"Aye, milady." Ned answered, trying to concentrate on not stepping on her feet.

"Shall I help you, then?" She asked, still playfully.

"Please." Ned chuckled.

"First your posture is already perfect, if not a tad too stiff. Second, stop thinking so much. Simplify it in your mind. Count to four over and over with your steps. And third, look into my eye, not at your feet." Ashara smiled as Ned followed each piece of her advice.

Robert and Lyanna watched the dancers as they ate, when their thoughts were interrupted by a sound neither of them had heard in a long time. Eddard Stark was laughing. The Quiet Wolf was bright-eyed and grinning from ear to ear. It was jarring for them, but very refreshing to witness.

Ned danced for hours, only breaking to drink a glass of ale or water. Robert, in his attempt to prove himself to Lyanna, stayed by her side the entire night; he danced with her, talked to her, and most importantly, he listened to her. That was particularly difficult for Robert, as Lyanna was not entirely kindhearted in her teasing, but to Ned's surprise Robert kept a relatively cool head. That was likely because he hadn't been drowning himself in wine.

Ned and Ashara danced one last song, before the Dornish maiden had to retire for the evening with her father.

* * *

Ned woke up from a nightmare filled with ice, fire, lions, wolves, and dragons. He was covered in a cold sweat. He raked his brain for what it could possibly have meant, but the memory of the dream faded more rapidly the more he thought about it. Ned groaned with frustration as he fell back onto his canvas bed.

The jousts resumed that morning. Robert was put against Sir Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. The crowd all knew that Robert hardly stood a chance. To everyone's surprise however, he shouldered 3 direct hits from his opponent, nearly unhorsing the Kingsguard on one pass, but luck soon left him, and Robert Baratheon was unhorsed on the 5th pass. Selmy shook Robert's hand after helping him back on his feet, nodded to the young lord respectfully. Robert's squire took his horse back to the stables as another young boy aided Robert in removing his armor. Ned went back to talk with his friend as the next match went on. Prince Rhaegar was jousting against an unknown challenger from Pentos.

Robert looked up and saw Ned, "Come to comfort me, Ned?"

"No." Ned replied bluntly, "Your opponent is more than 15 years your senior, and he's a member of the Kingsguard. To hold your own against and even nearly unseat him is an impressive feat, Robert. Don't sell yourself short. You did well."

Robert sighed, "You're right; as always, Ned," Robert grinned, "I suppose now I'm free to participate in the melee."

Ned frowned, "Robert, no. Men die in the melee. Your younger brothers and the Stormlands need you and your leadership. No one will think any less of you if you take it easy for the rest of the tourney."

"How would you have me to prove to your wolf-blooded sister that I am worthy of being her husband, then?" Robert growled, his temper rising.

"Lyanna will never be impressed by prowess in combat, or charisma in conversation, or hardly anything at all, Robert. If you want her, you'll have to deal with her until she realizes she can't affect you. You have to weather her until you've proven that you are not exactly what she believes you to be." Ned sighed, "And unfortunately for you, she has already decided that she dislikes you. It's an upward battle from there, Robert."

"And what is it that she believes I am, Ned? A whoremonger? A brash and lustful imbecile? A brute?"

Ned sighed, "Yes. All of those things, Robert. She doesn't know you, but she knows men like you, or at least her perception of you. It's unfair of her to have that opinion of you, but it's not misinformed."

"The wolf will not be tamed, then." Robert sat down, clearly exhausted from the past few days.

"My father has been trying for Lyanna's whole life. She's more stubborn than a mule, my friend." Ned chuckled sadly, "Get some rest, Robert. There'll be another feast and dance tonight, too." Robert nodded, as Ned returned to the stands.

* * *

The final joust of the tournament would occur the next day in the late afternoon. The Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would ride against Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. The melee would conclude in the morning before the joust. Prince Oberyn Martell and The Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard would face off against The Red Priest of Bravos and his enslaved Yi-Ti soldier in the melee's final round.

The feast that night wasn't all that eventful. Lords and heirs danced with ladies young and old. The king drank and scowled. Prince Rhaegar looked at his father with disdain. Jon Arryn, Rickard Stark, and Hoster Tully talked among themselves, about what Ned couldn't be sure, though he had his suspicions. The older men were Wardens of three powerful kingdoms. Alliances would be a worthy investment, especially given their king's unstable state of mind. The Mad King was notorious for his unpredictability. It was his small council and his son, Rhaegar, who kept the Seven Kingdoms stable for now, but it would not last. Ned knew that for certain, and many lords understood that. Before long, Ned would find himself with a wife of his own, he thought. The feast ended and Ned once again returned to his tent and bed.

As Ned drifted to sleep, he felt himself leaving his body.

_His spirit was whisked away by the wind, blowing him northwards. Ned flew beyond the wall into the far-north and the Lands of Always-Winter. Structures he couldn't imagine even in his highest flights of fancy appeared before and below him. Spires of ice and bone pierced the heavens, threatening to tear it asunder. Suddenly, a force pushed Ned down from the safety of the sky to the snow-covered surface. Ned saw an army of 10-foot tall masses of ice. Ned could see them slowly contract, shrinking but not melting. The forms started to resemble humanoid silhouettes. Then, the ice below him began to shudder and quake. A dark and cold shadow collided with the frozen barrier apparently holding it back. Disturbed and frightened to his core, Ned is again ripped away by some invisible force. The world spun around Ned at dizzying speeds until it came to an abrupt stop. Ned found himself hovering over the volcanic ruins of Old Valyria. The force pushed Ned into the largest of the volcanoes. On a ledge of hardened magma, Ned saw what could be only described as dragon eggs. Ned placed his spectral hand upon one of them. Somehow, he could detect a faint heartbeat within. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered to Ned, _"Fire and Blood, Stark. Those are your words, just as they are mine. The Starks and Targaryens are linked in a very special way, by a bond stronger even than blood. Baratheon and Lannister cannot sit upon the Iron Throne. Their reign would bring an end to the known world, Lord Stark. You'll know what to do."_ Before Ned had even the smallest chance to respond, his spirit was catapulted back into his waking body._

"AAAAHHH!" Was the first thing that ripped from Ned's lungs as he awoke from his latest and most vivid vision, eyes wide open.

"My lord!" A Valeman, asked, peeking into Ned's tent.

Ned ceased his vocalizing, "Are you alright, Eddard?" Ned nodded. "You gave half our camp a bit of a fright, my boy." He started chuckling, "Rest. You seem to need it."

Ned only nodded again, yawning before collapsing back into his furs, blankets, and canvas.

Ned slept through the morning, entirely missing the conclusion of the melee. Robert enjoyed regaling to Ned the method in which the Sword of the Morning and his partner, Oberyn Martell, dispatched the crazed zealot and his slave. He also described the Red Priest's brutal execution for bringing his slave onto the lands of Westeros. Ned agreed the justice had been properly dealt out. The two friends decided to see to a practice round or two as the stable boys, housemaids, and other servants prepared for the final joust of the tourney.

Robert and Ned ended up testing and swinging at each other for far longer than they intended. Soon enough, the pair had drawn a small crowd of lordlings and some of the stable boys who should've been setting up. Ned ignored the added attention and focused on Robert. He started to prod his friend's defenses, testing for weak spots. Robert seemed to have been out of practice, but still top notch in his defense. Save for one little mistake. Robert let his feet cross each other. Ned spotted the mistake immediately and used it. Ned swung low, and Robert tripped over his own leg to avoid the blunted practice sword from painfully whacking his leg. Robert finished flat on his ass. The young Storm-lord conceded his defeat and dismissed himself to get ready for the final joust and then dinner after. Ned knew he needed to allow his friend to cool off.

It was time for the final joust of the tourney. Robert seemed to be in a better mood when Ned took his seat next to him. Ned could smell the wine on him with a sigh of disappointment. He refrained from saying anything. He had humiliated his friend. Robert's method for dealing with his wounded ego this time was far safer than taking a barmaid where she stood. Something the Robert had done multiple times while they had stayed at the Eyrie. Hence his daughter, Mya Stone.

Ned turned his attention to the men preparing to joust. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would be facing down one of his father's own kingsguard, the legendary Barristan Selmy. It would be a difficult match for both men, Ned thought. The seemed to be the consensus to most of the spectators. Rhaegar was in his blackened, ruby studded steel armor. He had his intimidating helmet on as well. Dragon's wings sprouting from the side and the necks of the three-headed dragon arching, ready to strike. His worthy opponent, Ser Barristan the Bold White Knight, was armored in his white gold-plated armor. The man looked to be the perfect example of what it was to be a knight of the Kingsguard. All present knew that was exactly the case. The men nodded to each other respectfully, awaiting the signal to begin the bout. The air was pregnant with anticipation, as it seemed that everyone was collectively holding their breath. An age passed before the horn was blown to begin the joust. It resounded with an almost deafening sound. In any other situation one would think that a battle had just begun. Before Ned could recover from the surprise, the men were already charging at each other. They clashed with an impossible crack. Ned blinked as the loser was thrown from his mount with immense force. The victor removed his helm, revealing his silver blonde hair. His opponent was helped to his feet carefully as he strode to claim his prize. He took the crown of blue winter roses and rode past several anxious women and young ladies. His violet eyes connected with her eyes of blue and gray. Prince Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark as his Queen of Love & Beauty.

Elia Martell, the Prince's wife and the mother of his daughter and his heir, watched in a knowing silence. The rest of the audience, however; they were scandalized. Robert had turned a shade of red which Ned had never even thought possible. Lyanna was speechless; what could be said, after all. There was an uproar, of course. But that was quickly silenced by the king when he commanded that all present would leave for their homes by dawn the next morning.

Ned returned to his tent in absolute silence. He packed all his things quickly. There wasn't very much in the first place, being only the second son, Ned would inherit very little. Not that Ned cared. He was content. Benjen stood to inherit even less than he did, after all. Ned's thoughts returned to the event he had just played witness to. Ned could feel his heart fill with dread and despair and a deep and profound sadness. It would define him for the rest of his life. Harrenhal would be a permanent scar on his very soul. He knew that he would never be the same. Nothing would be the same. The world had changed that day. Everything was going to be different now.

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**Review if you feel compelled to do so. It is appreciated.**


	2. 2 The Rebellion

**The Battle of the Trident is gonna go a lil' different than you all remember...**

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**Chapter 2: The Rebellion**

Months passed since the legendary Tourney at Harrenhal, and the tension between his father and sister was palpable for everyone in Winterfell. Benjen Stark was only a year younger than his sister, and so he was always close to her, but ever since the tourney, she's lumped him in with their father it seemed. Ned went back with Jon Arryn to the Vale to do some final training before returning home for good. The two of them had come up for Brandon's marriage to Catelyn Tully. It was too early to tell, but most suspected that the lady would be with child soon if she wasn't already. Lord Hoster had been slightly incensed that his daughter had not been married in a sept, but he was placated by a promised supply of northern frost wine. Lord Rickard had been forcing Brandon to take on more responsibilities, much to his chagrin. But right now, Benjen needed to sit through his history lesson, working on his memorization of the greater and lesser houses of Westeros. House Hornwood had his favorite animal as its sigil, and some of the coolest house words in his opinion. Benjen poured himself into his reading until the Master-of-Arms, Rodrik Cassel, entered the library, looking for him.

"Time for your training, Lord Benjen. I think you're finally ready to live steel." The older man smirked, seeing the young lord's eyes light up with excitement.

"Really?!" He asked, unable to contain himself.

"Yes, really. Go get geared up, lad!" And with that Benjen disappeared from his spot. Rodrik's nephew Jory had been in need of a good sparring partner for a few months, and he and Benjen already had a friendly rapport.

To begin the lesson, Rodrik gave some cursory warnings about live steel. Then he went through some techniques and postures. Finally, he set the boys loose on each other. Benjen and Jory went for so many bouts that they had both lost count. Rodrik would interrupt between bouts to critique each of their styles and flaws in technique. When Rodrik detected their movements begin to slow and get less precise, he called it an evening.

Benjen and Jory cleaned the mud off their training swords, set them back in the rack, and removed their leather pieces. Jory helped his uncle with some other chores, and Benjen went back inside. He slipped into the kitchens and pilfered a small loaf of bread and some salted meat and went back up to his room to get clothes to change into after soaking in the hot springs for a hot bath. He passed his father's solar on his way up, when Lyanna stormed past him, having just slammed the door, their father still shouting down at her.

* * *

Lyanna stormed out her father's solar while he shouted after her. She hid in one of the servant's rooms and pulled out a letter. It was from her true love, the Crown Prince. She had already read it over at least 1,000 times, and so had it memorized. At this very moment, he would be riding past Moat Cailin on his family's fastest destrier, and she was to ride out to meet him tonight near Barrow Hall. The She-Wolf stealthily made her way to the stables and then set out to rendezvous with her beloved.

She looked back at her home one last time, already the hulking presence of Winterfell had begun to shrink into the horizon. So many memories made in such a small space. Some good. Some bad. Her heart panged for her mother, and the days when her father would smile. Her father. Lyanna steeled herself and urged her horse on faster. Never looking back again. She rode for days until she was met by two hooded riders. One of them removed his hood. It was Ser Arthur Dayne, who Lyanna recognized from Harrenhal.

"Apologies Lady Stark, but you must leave your mount behind. Ser Whent and I will protect you." He did not leave room for negotiating.

* * *

When Lyanna did not return to Winterfell, Lord Rickard sent Brandon out to find her and bring her back. They rode as fast as their horses would carry them. When they got to the Barrowlands Brandon found her colt, dead. It seemed to have been killed by a bear, as several parts were missing. The search party rode on to Barrow Hall. They were welcomed by Lord Dustin. He told them that he had gotten reports from his men of a small band of men in expensive armor riding around the Barrowlands and that Lyanna had indeed ridden in his lands.

Brandon Stark rode on for Kings Landing with his band. It was a hard two weeks of riding for them all, but they had a mission. They passed into the city with ease and rode on towards the Red Keep. The long trip did nothing to cool Brandon's head.

"Come out and die, Rhaegar Targaryen! Come and face me, you coward!" Brandon roared. The gates remained closed. So, he shouted again, "Did you hear me, cur? I demand that you come and face me! Refusing me is to smear your own honor as a warrior!"

"How dare you, savage!" Brandon looked up to see the Mad King glaring down at him from a balcony.

Brandon pulled his shoulders back and smirked, "Send out the crown prince to face me for the crimes he has committed against my sister!"

"ARREST THEM! ARREST THEM ALL!" the Mad King screamed.

Immediately, the gates opened, and guards poured out with crossbows drawn and swords at the ready. Brandon realized he didn't stand a chance. The sons of the north were all taken down to the Black Cells.

The Hand of the King went down to the dungeons to read to them their charges, of which there was only one. Conspiring against the life of the crown prince.

"Kill all of them but the Stark heir and his squire, on the order of the king."

"Yes, Lord Connington." The head guard replied as Jon Connington left the Black Cells ignoring Brandon Starks shouting as his comrades screamed in agony.

Aerys sent a summons to Lord Stark, demanding that he show himself in court to answer for the crimes of his heir and the sons of his vassals. But when Lord Rickard finally arrived, his small band of guards was plugged full of arrows at the gates to Kings Landing, and he was promptly arrested and taken before the crazed old tyrant.

"What is the meaning of this, Aerys?! Where is my son?" Lord Stark shouted at the Mad King when he was dragged into the throne room. The decrepit old lizard sat on his chair of swords while the Hand of the King stepped forward.

"Lord Rickard Stark, you and your heir are charged with high treason against the crown. Conspiring against the life of the crown prince is not a light matter, you know. Admit your guilt and the king might just let you take the Black." Jon Connington smirked.

Rickard spat, "I demand a trial by combat. Let the gods vouch for my innocence."

Aerys perked up at that, "Oh-ho! Then, pick your champion, Lord Stark."

"Show my son to me first." Aerys nodded, and two guards next to the throne parted from each other, revealing Brandon Stark, gagged and bound next to his squire, Ethan Glover. They removed the gag.

"I WILL FIGHT FOR MY FATHER! Let the Old Gods prove our fight is just." Brandon shouted.

"And who do you name as the champion of House Targaryen, your grace?"

"It's only natural that I turn to my house words for inspiration, Lord Stark. You have chosen your son, a coming Winter if you will. My champion will be FIRE!" Aerys made some gestures, and both Starks were seized once again. Rickard was tied by his feet and hung over a pyre. Brandon was strapped by the neck to one of the marble pillars with his sword just out of reach.

"Grab the sword and free your father, young Wolf. Save him from the fire!" Aerys began to cackle madly.

Ethan Glover was held down by two members of the Kingsguard, struggling against them to help his friend and his liege lord.

One of the men whispered in his ear, "Don't. With any luck, you will survive this."

At that, Ser Barristan Selmy looked away as the Mad King laughed and laughed, Lord Rickard's screams echoing through the throne room. Anyone who had previously harbored doubts about the Targaryen madness had those thoughts divorced from their minds that day. Soon, the roaring of the inferno died down to a crackle, and the struggling croaks and sputters long since ceased. Lord Rickard Stark and his heir were dead.

"Throw their bones to the dogs of Flea Bottom!" Aerys shouted as he hobbled off the throne and to his bed chambers.

* * *

Rhaegar absconded with his Winter Rose and rode for days, staying together in taverns under fake names and disguises. It was a fast and energetic romance for them. Rhaegar was the pinnacle of courtly honor and chivalry. Lyanna accepted every gift with grace and favor. The poor girl had no idea what she was in for. As they passed through the Riverlands, they eloped by the Gods' Eye. Not technically wed in a sept but Rhaegar's marriage to Elia was officially annulled and his new marriage to Lyanna Stark was recorded and taken to the nearest sept by the Septon who married them.

To the Crown Prince's credit, he knew that what he was planning to do was morally wrong, but it was for the greater good, he rationalized. He was misleading this young girl so that he could bring a prophecy to fruition. He had written his great-uncle Aemon an almost constant correspondence, asking for his help and advice. Lately, the old maester had been cautioning and warning Rhaegar that he was acting too quickly, not thinking rationally. He knew Aemon was right, but he needed to fulfill the prophecy. All he needed was a second daughter for his son. Three heads.

Finally, they had arrived. Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Gerold Hightower had been waiting for their arrival. The Tower of Joy, where Rhaegar knew his wife would be safe during the coming war. In addition to these members of the Kingsguard, Rhaegar had a maester, a cook, and a midwife. Lyanna would be comfortable here, he thought.

* * *

Ned and Robert were sparring together in the yard, shooting the breeze before their last lesson with the maester. The Master-of-Arms had stipulated no weapons, so they resorted to fisticuffs. Both had put on hand wraps and were only wearing leather riding pants. Ned knew his friend was stronger than him, but he was faster. In terms of skill they were evenly matched. They were about to start another match when Jon Arryn called for them with an unnatural urgency.

"To my Solar, quickly!" He shouted before going back inside.

"Shit, Ned. We must've done something terrible, but I can't think of what." Robert pondered.

Ned just nodded as he put on some of his outer clothes to make himself slightly more decent. He had woken up that morning in a cold sweat with an overwhelming sense of dread. He had a bad feeling.

They arrived at the door and knocked.

"Come in boys." Jon Arryn was sitting at his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. "Close the door, Robert. What I am about to tell you both is for these 3 pairs of ears only. It is very ill news. Ned, you need to sit down."

"What is this about, Jon?" Robert asked after closing the door and making sure it was locked.

"Ned, I hate that I must be the bearer of this news, but your father and brother have been executed on the grounds of high treason against the crown. This letter here is from the king. He has demanded that I deliver him your heads, both you and Robert. To refuse is treason."

As an argument erupted between Robert and Jon, the world around Ned faded away. Everything came to a crashing halt. Then, a question.

"What about Lyanna?" Robert and Jon froze, so he repeated himself, "Lord Arryn, what about my sister?"

"More bad news, I'm afraid Ned. The reason your brother was accused of treason was demanding that the Crown Prince face him and Northern justice for the abduction of your sister. The Mad King did not take kindly to that and called your father to Kings Landing to answer for Brandon's crime."

"Ned, you know we're brothers. I will fight by your side. Let us make these dragons pay for their crimes."

"Call your banners, Jon. We're going to bring Aerys Targaryen to his knees." Ned growled.

The next weeks were dedicated to gathering allies for the rising rebellion. Ned sent letters to all the northern houses calling them to rendezvous south of Moat Cailin. Robert sent word to the Stormlands, calling their banners. Jon Arryn called his banners in the Vale and helped Ned write a letter to Hoster Tully calling him into an alliance to avenge the death of his goodson. They quickly got word back, demanding that Ned marry his brother's widow. Ned could not abide that, feeling it would dishonor his brother, as he had gotten word that his goodsister was already with child. He and Jon negotiated a different marriage alliance. Jon would marry Lysa Arryn and take on Edmure as a ward if he wished. Once the banners of the Vale had gathered, they set out for Riverrun to solidify the allegiance. Robert and Ned met Lord Hoster's ward Petyr Baelish, a scrawny lad from the Fingers in the Vale. He was very clever, and he had a devilish sense of humor, directing very poignant jabs at Robert that flew over the stag's head. Robert loved the banter, while it made Ned quite uncomfortable. Luckily, Hoster had planned on sending Baelish back to his home to be safe during the war. After the wedding, Jon sent Robert to the Stormlands to bring his forces up to the main force who would bide their time before invading the Crownlands.

Despite some difficulty, Robert made it down to the Stormlands and led his army on the march northward to reconnect with Ned and Jon. He fought his first battles, suffering only one defeat which allowed the Tyrell's to surround Storm's End. Lord Mace Tyrell began the siege of Storm's End, which would last for most of the war. Meanwhile, Ned and Jon dealt with some small skirmishes throughout the Riverlands, slowly marching down south while they stall for time for the Northern army to catch up. After about 4 months, Robert's army met with Ned's and Jon's at the Trident just south of the Twins. Not long after the rebel armies met, the Royalists arrived to wipe them out. They received word from their scouts and recognized that they were not insignificantly outnumbered.

"Don't lose hope yet, Ned. They may outnumber us, but all of our soldiers have survived numerous battles. These Crownland troops are green boys. If we plan it out, we can still win." Jon advised Ned and Robert.

"Right. And we have confirmation that Rhaegar is going to be leading the vanguard. If we are able to strike him down, the Royalist's morale will drop." Robert smirked.

"That is true, Robert, but the kingsguard will know that. The Crown Prince will be well protected. I urge you to focus on breaking to the command, not specifically seeking out a dragon to slay." Jon almost pleaded.

"I may look a great fool, but I am not so stupid as to charge mindlessly into an ill-meditated fight, Lord Arryn. I will do my part, and I will destroy the dragon-rapist" Robert scowled as Ned winced.

"Very well, Lord Baratheon. I recommend you make the needed preparations for battle, then." Jon Arryn fired right back at his ward.

"Aye." Was all Robert said as he left the war tent.

Jon and Ned spent another hour drafting battle plans, trying to account for multiple differing scenarios. Regardless, Robert would lead his Vanguard of the Stormlanders headlong into the leadership. Cut off the head of the snake, as it were. Jon sent Ned back to his tent to rest up before the battle as he drafted up the orders for the Lords and Commanders. The battle would begin at first light. Robert spent his time strategizing with his Stormlords. Ned in the meantime could barely sleep. After waking the third time in a cold sweat, the Quiet Wolf instead went to sharpening his sword alone with his thoughts. He sent a small prayer to the Old Gods that his father and Brandon would find peace with his mother and be satisfied in finally being avenged.

Robert poked his head inside the tent after some time, "The time has come, Ned. The battle begins at first light. The old falcon has a sixth sense for time, I swear."

Ned chuckled lightly at that, "Aye, that he does."

"Need help with your armor?" Robert asked.

"Thank you, Robert, but I'm okay. I couldn't sleep so I've already got my lower half covered. I need to be quick in order to survive this, so I'm using the studded leather armor that Jon had made for when we started training with live steel. Replaced a few old, worn pieces. The torso is a lot more steel though. And I already have my mail on."

"At least let me help you with the top, then."

"Of course." Ned smiled.

Robert helped Ned into his armor, starting with the chest plate and matching back piece. Ned put on his arm-guards and Robert fit the pouldrons into place on his shoulders. Ned slipped his gauntlets on and sheathed his sword in his scabbard. Ned took in a deep breath as he fortified himself. The foster-brothers looked at each other in silence. A mutual understanding was reached between them. Robert finally handed Ned his helm and they both strode out of the tent together. They went into the war tent were Jon and a few other commanders were waiting. Final confirmations and clarifications and finally they were ready. Horses were mounted and each man took his place with his army. The sun began to rise and the horn resounded across the fields. The battle had begun.

Each man in the grand army of the rebellion had served from the very beginning. They were hardened from each and every hard-fought battle won. So, for Ned, it was all a blur. Instinct took over and made him into a killing machine. At some point, his horse had been cut down leaving him on the ground amongst Royalist soldiers. Ned cut his way through the soldiers, clearing a path for his northern riders to aid Robert in breaking the Royalist command. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of brilliant light and a resounding crash of thunder. Ned looked in the direction of the river and there they were. Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen about to ride each other down. Ned ran towards the mighty duel, unsure of what he could do, but certain that he needed to be there and be ready to get involved. Several Northmen noticed their lord running towards the river and joined him, keeping the army of the crown off of their leader. Each horsed man prepared himself for this fatal joust. Robert brandished his mighty Warhammer and Rhaegar wielded his vorpal blade. They charged at each other with another flash of lightning. Robert aimed instead for the crowned prince's horse, taking Rhaegar by surprise having to nimbly roll off his saddle before his horse crushed him. The dragon prince responded in kind by throwing several knives at the Stormlord's horse, hurting and scaring it, forcing Robert to clumsily dismount before it reared and crashed on top of him. Each man quickly recuperated and charged at the other once again. Robert seethed with rage as he launched his warhammer at Rhaegar, spinning end over end towards him. Rhaegar barely dodged it, in fact taking an indirect hit to the shoulder. Robert had not ceased his charging, however, and tackled the prince, making him drop his sword. Unfortunately, the prince was well-armed. He drew a curved knife from the scabbard on his back and tried to stab Robert. He slammed the prince to the ground and wrapped his hands around the prince's neck only to take a blade through his own as Rhaegar slit his throat. Ned froze where he was, only a few yards away. The prince threw his assailant off him to recover his sword. Robert gasped for air as he stared at his best friend, begging for forgiveness with his eyes. Where for a moment there had been tears, now there was only red.

Rhaegar noticed this and tried to say something, perhaps to reason with the Northerner, but Eddard Stark heard nothing but the bellow that left him, welling up from the deepest of caverns within himself. The Quiet Wolf drew his sword and charged at the Dragon Prince, intent on taking his head. Rhaegar barely had time to react and parry the blow that would have split the sturdiest man in twain. The rain came down like a deluge now, as the storm around them grew darker. The air around the two men seemed to turn ice-cold, freezing the rain as it made landfall. Rhaegar was on a constant back-pedal, defending against his enraged opponent. Ned himself was clear-headed and focused, even more so than he had ever been. Enraged, but calculated. Both men knew Rhaegar was faster, but Ned had been training with a sword since his 5th nameday. Rhaegar had proven to be a prodigy but had only started at the age of 16. So Ned kept him on the defense. But eventually, an opening revealed itself, and Rhaegar took it. He made a stabbing motion for his adversary to dodge and rolled his way behind Ned and made a slash at his back that was barely blocked. Both men were beginning to tire.

"Drop your sword and surrender, Stark! Do not make me take your head!" Rhaegar shouted at him.

"Your father made it clear that it is either my head or yours, wyrm!" Ned spat, "Face the northern justice, you lizard! I will kill you for what you have done!"

This time Rhaegar charged first, striking with frightening speed. Ned held firm, but he caught a glancing strike in the face. The Dragon Prince grinned and let his guard down slightly. Ned took advantage of that and ran the lizard through. Rhaegar's armor had been weakened in the shoulder, the metal more pliable. Ned withdrew his sword from Rhaegar's insides and wiped the blood from his eyes as his opponent fell to the ground dead. Jon Arryn rode into view as Ned Stark's vision faded to black.

* * *

Ned opened his eyes to find himself in some kind of throne room. The roof had seemingly been ripped off by some powerful force of nature long before, leaving the whole space exposed to the pale light of the full moon. The throne of swords before him was glistening red with blood. As he came closer to it steam began to come off from it. When he finally reached the base of the steps to it an explosive force threw him back against the opposite wall. When he looked back at the source of the explosion, the throne had vanished. In its place was a great Weirwood tree. It was as if it had been there since the Age of Heroes.

The Quiet Wolf approached once again, much more cautious this time. He placed a hand on the tree and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Old Gods.

A voice that sounded much like his own, but also distinctly not began to speak in his head, "Eddard Stark, soon Westeros will be yours by right of conquest. Do not allow yourself to lose your humility and fall prey to the trappings of ego and pride. A great threat is coming and the world is woefully unprepared. You must guide Westeros and with it, the world, to face the Long Night."

Suddenly, Ned felt an invisible force pull him away from the ground.

* * *

Ned shot up in his cot, feeling a primal chill travel through his entire body. As he looked around, Ned noticed that his right eye had been bandaged. He was about the get up from the cot when a young woman entered his tent with a bowl of water and clean bandages. Ned froze in place as if he had been caught by his mother sneaking food from the kitchens. She stared at him for a moment, before launching into action.

"Milord! You should be laying down. That cut over your eye bled a lot." She firmly told him.

"Of course you're right. My apologies, but what is the severity of this?" Ned pointed to his eye.

"Once I was able to stop the bleeding and clean the area around it, it seems to be a superficial cut. That is, it didn't do any real damage to you. In fact, you'll come away with a pretty faint scar at the most. Now please, lay down." She helped Ned back down. "Let me take off the bandage now."

"Many thanks, ...uh, wait a moment. Do I know you?" Ned was racking his mind for where he might've seen this woman before.

She grinned as she leaned back, "Took you long enough, Lord Stark."

"Ashara Dayne! What are you doing here?" Ned was in complete disbelief.

"I came to help, Ned. My brother is honor-bound to serve the crown as part of the Kingsguard, but I couldn't stay put and let Aerys get away with what he did to your family."

"Ashara..." Ned sighed.

"Hush, now. You still need more rest. I'll go fetch Lord Arryn." Ashara kissed Ned on the forehead and left to do as she said she would.

* * *

**Author's Note: Apologies for the SUPER long wait. Next will be the Sacking of Kings Landing, the establishment of a new dynasty, and a time jump to the conflict in the Iron Islands.**


End file.
